


Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

by agent_scully2084



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Break Up, F/M, Post-Season/Series 09, Pre-Season/Series 10, The X-Files Revival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 13:18:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5006269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent_scully2084/pseuds/agent_scully2084
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After going through so much together over the years, why did they finally decide to part ways?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Amicable

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am humbly and cautiously borrowing characters without the intent of copyright infringement. (Do we honestly need these, or did someone just start doing this early on, and we all just followed suit?)
> 
> Spoiler Warnings: Setting for Part 1 is immediately following ‘I Want to Believe’, after Mulder and Scully return from their vacation (briefly shown after the movie’s credits), so pretty much the whole series so far. There is also some heavy-handed parallelism with ‘Fight the Future’. There is also some looking forward to Season 10, so if you want to go in unspoiled, don’t read this.
> 
> Author’s Notes: Inspired a conversation I had with my One-in-Seven-Billion, and by Chris Carter's response to a fan outraged by The Breakup (yes, it deserves capitalization) during the New York Comic Con panel: “We were doing some sound on the show and I was going under a bridge, and above us it said, ‘Life has many bumps in the road.’ And I think Mulder and Scully hit one of those.” 
> 
> This story is my attempt to come to terms with that. This is also the first time in about 14 years that I have written fanfic.

Mulder sat at his desk staring blankly at a still folded newspaper, his open laptop pushed off to the side. He reclined in his chair, shifting his gaze to the pencils stuck in the ceiling panels. He could hear the faint ticking of the wall clock out in the living room. The house already felt too quiet, too empty.

Scully stopped her car at the gate and shifted into park. She looked at the farmhouse as the sunset's softening glow lit it from behind. She would miss the serenity of this place. After about a minute of quiet contemplation, she inhaled sharply and shoved the car door open as she stepped out to open the gate.

Mulder got up from his chair and ambled to the kitchen. He switched off the oven and lit one of the burners on the gas stove. He took a bag of mixed vegetables from the freezer and dumped its contents into a saucepan, added a bit of water and then left it to simmer. He knew that Scully preferred fresh vegetables,  but they hadn't been grocery shopping since they returned from their vacation, during which Scully received an urgent message that there was a job opportunity for her to work as a surgeon in Washington D.C. Her recent work using gene therapy to treat a boy with a seemingly untreatable illness had not gone unnoticed.

Mulder heard Scully's car door close and went to the front door to greet her. Scully pulled open the screen door, stepped in, and unzipped and kicked off her boots in one seemingly fluid motion.

“How were the contract negotiations, Doctor Scully?” asked Mulder.

She slipped her coat off her shoulders and folded it over her arm. She stood facing Mulder, hesitant to look up at him. Keeping her head down, she took a deep breath.

“That good, huh?” Mulder said quietly.

Scully gave a slight nod, “I accepted the position,” she said, “I know we talk about this, and I know you said you were okay with it, but--” Her voice trailed off. She looked up at Mulder.

Mulder placed his hands on her shoulders and met her gaze. “Scully, I’m not going to keep you hiding out here with me when you have the opportunity to advance your medical career.”

Scully gave another slight nod, and the tears that had been threatening to fall escaped in small streams down her cheeks.

"Hey," Mulder said, cupping Scully’s chin and using his thumbs to wipe away the tears, "You know that staying here would only hold you back. You know that brilliant career in medicine that everyone saw you as giving up when you joined the FBI? Now is your chance to pursue it. I won’t hold you back anymore. We agreed that this would be the best thing for both of us."

"We did, Mulder,  but that doesn't make it any easier." With that Scully's coat fell to the floor and she wrapped her arms around Mulder, buried her face in his sweater, and sniffled softly.

Mulder rested his cheek on the top of Scully's head and stroked her hair. He held her close, deliberately trying to absorb and retain the feel of her: how she fit into his arms, where her head met his chest, the softness of her hair, and the faint vanilla of her perfume.

"When do you start?" He asked.

"Three weeks," she replied, pulling back from him slightly.

“Three weeks,” he repeated, “and then you’ll be back in D.C.”

“Yeah,” she said in a near whisper.

“Be careful,” Mulder replied dryly, “With you back in our old stomping grounds, the Bureau might try and re-recruit you.”

Scully shook her head, and smiled earnestly, “I’m not sure they could afford me anymore.”

Mulder’s hands were back on Scully's shoulders, and he lowered his head down so that his and Scully's foreheads were touching. They stood in silence as each reflected on what they had been through together -- the strange, wonderful way that their relationship had evolved from a professional partnership, to a deeply rooted friendship to, as if a switch had been flicked, being each other's one and only. Theirs was a slow and steadily burning passion. But even that deeply forged connection could not withstand the dissolution of their shared resolve to find The Truth.

As far as Scully was concerned, she had found the answers she was looking for. The quest on which she had joined Mulder was resolved. They found the answers about Samantha, about the Syndicate of conspirators who were responsible for much of Mulder and Scully’s suffering, and the role that these men would play in the inevitable, tragic end of the world as they knew it. The personal sacrifices that had been made for the quest weighed heavily on Scully's heart, especially the loss of William. Even though he was, as Mulder said, their miracle, Scully felt that she could never fully protect William from the dangers of the world. The child could never be safe when his parents both had targets on their back because of the work that they once did. She would never fully be at peace with the decision to place William for adoption.

Although Mulder shared Scully’s long-standing grief, he felt that there was still more work to be done. There were still answers that needed to be found, lies that needed to be exposed. Yes, they had uncovered some answers, but there were still big questions that remained. A deadline was approaching, and Mulder needed to find out when and how colonization would take place.

If the end was inevitable, Scully wanted to use her medical training to help as many people as she could. For her, there was still time to make use of her knowledge and skills, and she deeply desired to leave behind some sort of legacy of goodness. She had, at some point, realized that it was exhausting and impossible to save the world. In her time with the FBI, Scully had seen the worst of humanity, from individuals who chose to harm others, to terrorist organizations, to conspiracies of men working within the government that was trusted to keep their citizens safe. This darkness had for so long dominated Scully's life and consciousness that she clung to the only source of goodness that she could -- Mulder. Being out of the Bureau allowed Scully to emerge from the darkness. She saw that there were other people out there, fighting a good fight, making seemingly small, but palpable differences in the lives of others. And they were happy doing so.

As much of a comfort as it was to know that Mulder, through his forced retirement, would be safe at home, Scully recognized that he was restless. He needed to be out in the world, chasing down leads and puzzling out seemingly impossible connections to resolve unlikely and improbable mysteries. Their most recent involvement with the FBI reminded Scully of that. She was acutely aware that the man with whom she had fallen in love was that brilliant, determined investigator who, often at his own peril, sought to bring light to the darkness. His passion for the work and his unwavering compulsion to not only help individuals, but also to find the larger answers, were being stifled here in his home office, sifting through news reports, magazines, and online message boards. At first the isolation was necessary to escape the death penalty for erroneous charges against him, but what Scully realized was that it was also her fear that was keeping Mulder at home. She felt selfish for stifling him, especially as he stood there telling her to go out and work towards fulfilling her own potential. But she dreaded adding Mulder to her litany of personal losses. How many times had they held each other’s hands over the rails of a hospital bed? How many times had they saved each other from harm? Scully knew that she could not go back to that life. She couldn’t go back to chasing demons in the dark, wondering if she and Mulder would come out of it alive. She had been struggling with that even before Agent Drummy approached her to appeal to Mulder on the FBI’s behalf. Now that Scully had seen Mulder back in “agent mode”, and he had been exonerated of the murder charges, she knew that he was free to extend his search for truth beyond the relative safety of their farmhouse, and he would. And with his reignited passion for the pursuit of the truth came the liabilities that would most likely cost Mulder the ultimate price. This was the reason for the separate trajectories on which they were about to embark.

The irony of it was not lost on Scully or Mulder. They had to part ways to eliminate the constant fear, to ease the paranoia, and be separated on their own terms before they were forced apart by something outside of their control. None of this meant that the love was gone. They just had different, individual missions now.

They had stood together like this in the hallway of Mulder’s Alexandria apartment building ten years before, trying to say goodbye after they had been officially re-assigned, and Scully had given in her resignation rather than accepting a transfer to Salt Lake City -- a resignation that was rescinded after Scully’s infection with an alien virus and Mulder’s subsequent rescue mission to Antarctica to administer the vaccine and bring Scully home.

“Hey Scully,” Mulder said, “Please tell me you haven’t been hanging around any beehives, because I’m going to kiss you now, and would prefer not to be interrupted.”

Scully smiled slowly and said in a low voice, “I’m glad to see that our change in context hasn’t dampened your sense of humour, Mulder.”

Together they chuckled as Mulder lowered his lips to Scully’s and kissed her deeply.

“I can’t say I won’t miss that,” Scully sighed breathily as their lips parted.

Mulder smirked triumphantly. “Come on, dinner’s ready.” He slipped his arm around her shoulders and they walked to the kitchen together. He said playfully, “You can elaborate on what you’ll miss most about me later, and then we can create some lasting memories for you to take with you to D.C.” Mulder waggled his eyebrows at Scully and then planted a kiss on her cheek.

“Mulder,” Scully said with mock sternness in her voice, “Quit flirting with me when I’m trying to break up with you.”

“You’re not gone for another three weeks, Dana,” Mulder retorted, “And… I think it goes without saying, that even though we’re not living together--”

“That doesn’t mean we’re not together?” Scully guessed.

“No, I was gonna say that doesn’t mean I’m not available for booty calls.”

Scully raised an eyebrow, “Booty calls? Is that what you’re reducing us to?”

Mulder grinned, “I wouldn’t be opposed to it, would you?”

Scully smiled enigmatically and took her seat at the kitchen table. It had been a long day, and she was starving.

 

 


	2. Men & Women Can't Be Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been about a year and a half since Mulder and Scully last saw each other in person. A friendly gesture doesn't end how Mulder intended.

Saturday,  February 13, 2010

10:26 p.m.

Dana Scully's apartment

 

Dana Scully reclined on the sofa with her glass of wine in one hand, and the TV remote in the other. The networks were quick to remind her that it was Valentine's weekend, and she should be snuggled up with the one she loves.

 _Well_ , she mused, _if this Merlot counts as a loved one_ , I'm all set.

She took a long sip and absentmindedly glanced at her cell phone on the coffee table. When Scully first moved back to Washington,  she and Mulder used to call each other every couple of days. But as they settled into their respective routines the calls became less frequent, and eventually Mulder had developed a habit of calling on Saturday nights. Their conversations were, for the most part, light and friendly. They bantered with ease, and Mulder listened intently as Scully talked about her research, her new favourite restaurant, and the other details of her week.

Mulder rarely spoke about his work. Sometimes he would tell Scully about discredited leads, and his travels to various tiny towns to examine supposed evidence. He hoped that Scully would at least be entertained, or reminiscent of their adventures. Instead, he was always met with a sort of strained concern. Scully would tell him to be careful, take precautions when meeting people, and she would often remind him that he no longer had the protection of his service weapons in case things took a turn. Mulder knew she was right. Scully knew the thing they were both thinking, but not saying: if they were still together, she would be in those small towns investigating with him. She would have his back.

But time and opportunity had lead Scully down a different path; one that did not include meeting supposed informants in dark alleyways and risking her life for the chance at obtaining a scrap of information that would shed minimal light on the bigger picture. She had a schedule, a routine. In her current job she was able to split her time between operating, paperwork, meetings, and teaching. At the end of the day, Scully knew what she had achieved. She had a clear idea of her successes and failures, and this was more satisfying than much of the work that she did while at the FBI. Still,  professional and personal satisfaction were different realms, and as fulfilling as her career had been over the past eighteen months or so, there was, for Scully, something obviously missing.

She placed her glass on the coffee table and picked up her phone. She set it on the sofa beside her has Billy Crystal as Harry Burns explained to Meg Ryan's Sally that men and women can't be friends because the sex always gets in the way. _He's not entirely wrong_ , Scully thought as she glanced down at the phone again. She muted the TV then picked up her phone and dialed Mulder's number.

"Hey Scully," he answered. "I was just about to call you."

"Hi," she said. "I figured, I just... I..."

"Are you okay?" Mulder said concernedly. That's the way it always was with them: from light and friendly to concerned for one’s safety based on a change in tone of voice or a slight hesitation.

Scully smiled into the phone, "I'm fine, Mulder, I just thought that maybe I should initiate the phone call for once."

Mulder chuckled, "So, in other words you miss me?"

"Well, yeah I miss you," Scully said, "and you're usually very punctual, so I was concerned that maybe one of your crackpot sources had you tied up in a trailer or something."

"That did happen this week," he said, "but not in the way you would expect."

"What?" Now it was her turn to shift into concerned mode.

"I'm joking, Scully. Joking," he reassured her. "I'm actually a little late with our regular call because I'm traveling."

"Oh, where to?" she asked, expecting his response to be prefaced with a story about someone in some part of the country who had a convincing story to tell, and had sought out his expertise. Instead, the call ended. "Mulder? Hello?" Scully looked down at her phone quizzically. He probably just lost signal, and would call back.

Scully placed her phone back on the coffee table and then un-muted the TV. She stretched her arms above her head before draining the remaining contents of her wine glass. She headed to the kitchen to prepare a snack and get a refill. She peered into the fridge, contemplating whether to have hummus and vegetables or her leftovers from dinner. As Scully was about to start mentally weighing out the pros and cons of each option, she was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Who is it?" she asked cautiously through the door, missing the comfort that her government-issued weapon would have provided in this situation.

"Pizza delivery," responded the voice on the other side of the door. Scully looked through the peephole and then opened the door.

"Mulder, what are you doing here?" she grinned involuntarily and opened her arms to hug him, but realized that he had actually brought pizza.

"Hey Scully," he said, handing her the pizza box. "You said you missed me, so..." he trailed off.

“So,” she continued for him, “at some point within the last few hours you predicted I would admit to missing you, and you made the trip over here?”

He nodded, “I also predicted that you might be hungry.”

“Thanks, Mulder.” She put the pizza on the coffee table and headed to the kitchen for plates, and to retrieve her wine glass.

Mulder placed a six pack on the coffee table, being sure to arrange a coaster under each can. Scully put down the plates and her glass and then she and Mulder hugged each other. He kissed her forehead as they parted and then made themselves comfortable on the sofa.

"What brings you to D.C?" Scully asked, lifting the lid of the pizza box.

"You mean besides my Scully-sense telling me that you missed me?" He smirked as he put two slices of pizza on a plate and handed it to Scully.

"You have Scully-sense now?" she asked incredulously.

Mulder made a wounded sound and flopped back on the sofa with his hand over his heart, "All these years, all that we’ve been through, and you're doubting my Scully-sense? That hurts, Dana." He pouted at her as she swallowed a bit of pizza and then laughed heartily.

"Okay then," she said, "for old time's sake, let's suppose that you do have this, uh, psychic connection, this --"

"Scully-sense," Mulder said with a nod as he sat up and served himself some pizza.

"Sure, Mulder, let's say you do have a sixth sense when it comes to me. How does it work?"

"Well," Mulder began with a mouth full of pizza. Scully gave him a disapproving look so he decided to chew and swallow before continuing,  "I can't explain it. It just kind of happens."

Scully nodded, "Okay, what just kind of happens?"

Mulder shrugged, "I don't know. I just kind of figured that this would be a good night to stop by with pizza and beer because you miss me."

"But how did you know I missed you?"

"Are you saying you didn't?"

"No, I'm asking how you knew I did."

"So you did miss me."

"Did you ever really doubt that, Mulder?"

"No, I just wanted you to say it again," he took another large bit of pizza and then opened a beer. "You know," he said, taking a gulp of beer, "you used to be a lot better at interrogation."

"And you," Scully countered, "were always ridiculously obvious in your attempts to flirt with me."

"Flirting? Is that what you think this is? I brought pizza, Scully. This is my A-game. This isn't _just_ flirting."

Scully couldn't help but laugh, "Mulder, this is not your A-game. This is just you being you... And I like that. I always have... Besides, baseball was your A-game."

He nodded, "Yeah, that was pretty smooth. That reminds me, I still owe you ice cream."

"It wasn't ice cream,” she said in the same tone she had used in their office all those years ago, “it was a non-fat tofutti rice dreamsicle. And if we're keeping score of who owes what to whom, this isn't going to be a fun evening for either of us."

Mulder nodded thoughtfully, "You're right. I guess frozen desserts don't matter in the grander scheme of things, do they?"

"Of course not," Scully replied. "Oh!" she added, "the haunted house on Christmas Eve was also pretty good."

"You think so?"

"Yeah, Mulder, that was... morbidly sweet. And I know that we don’t know for sure what really happened in there, but I know that there is nobody else that I would have rather been there with," she said with a smile.

Mulder grinned as Scully tilted her head to the side thoughtfully. He knew better than to interrupt Scully during her moments of quiet reverie, especially when she was smiling reminiscently, focused on happy times, rather than the difficulties that they had faced. Mulder took another sip of beer and waited for Scully to share her thoughts. They reminisced about past conversations, shared memories, and shared laughter. They lightheartedly debated discrepancies in their perspectives of past cases, and eventually sat in a companionable silence for a few minutes, neither one really paying attention as Harry and Sally’s long-winded romance played out on screen.

“I guess we work better together when we’re not actually together,” she said.

“You’ve said that before,” Mulder said in a monotone. “It’s like saying that you love me, but you’re not _in love_ with me.”

“Mulder,” Scully whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Scully, I know I was kind of a pill to live with. I don’t blame you for getting sick of me.”

Scully shook her head, “Oh, Mulder, is that what you think happened?” she asked with a sigh.

“It’s okay, Scully, I also like me better in small doses.”

“Mulder, stop,” she said, placing her hand on his knee. “You know why we decided to part ways. You know that I can’t ask you to be something that you’re not. I can’t ask you to stop hunting down the truth because it makes me feel safer. I can’t ask you to stop looking for answers just because I want to believe that there has to be someone else who will take up the cause and just let you have some rest.” She stood now, clearing the plates and her glass as she spoke, “I don’t want to dwell on what we’ve lost, and how we’ve suffered. We’ve spent too much time doing that already. _I_ have spent too much time doing that already.”

Scully moved to the kitchen and paused, setting the dishes down on the counter. Mulder sat watching her, her words rang in his ears, and he clenched his jaw in an effort to keep his mouth shut and let her finish.

“Mulder, I have never stopped loving you, and not a day goes by where I don’t think about you, and worry about you, and just pray to whatever higher power is listening that on Saturday night, my phone will ring, and I will hear your voice and know that you’re okay. I thought that living apart would distance me from your quest, from the paranoia, and ambiguity, and doubt, but really, all that has happened is that I have the ability to compartmentalize now. I go about my day at the hospital, and then I worry about you when I get home, and then I get angry at myself for worrying about because you’re not supposed to be my concern anymore, but somehow my world doesn’t make sense without you.

I have what I thought I wanted, but it isn’t what I thought it would be. You permeate every aspect of my being, even when we’re not living together, and we only talk once a week, and even though I haven’t seen you in over a year until tonight. We run so deep in each other’s veins that I don’t even know how to exist in a world where we’re not in each other’s lives.” She was crying now, and Mulder could feel her frustration, and her heartbreak. She stood in the kitchen, her hands on the counter, facing away from him.

Mulder wanted to comfort Scully. He wanted to embrace her and kiss her, and let her know that she would never have to exist in a world without him. But she was desperately trying to do just that, and it was clear to Mulder that he wasn’t making any effort to move on. He got up from the sofa and headed for the door.

“Dana,” he said, with a catch in his throat, “It hasn’t been easy to be without each other because I haven’t allowed us to be with each other. Calling every week, showing up here today to try and at least rekindle our friendship -- I haven’t even given us a chance to try to get over each other. It would be easier if I just let you walk away. Neither of us is going to move on if we remain friends.”

Scully, glancing at the TV, mumbled, “Yeah, Nora Ephron has been trying to teach me that since 1989,” as she walked towards Mulder, looking stricken. “So are we actually doing this then, Mulder?”

Mulder gave a small nod and took Scully into his arms, “We have to,” he whispered.

“You’re my best friend,” Scully said weakly in an attempt to make him reconsider.

“And you’re mine,” he said, “and I love you. There is nobody like you in this world, and there is no way to rewrite our history together. There is something kindred about us, but Dana, if what you said is true, and you get angry at yourself for even thinking of me, then we need to make more of an effort to create distance between us. If I knew for sure that things could be different, then I wouldn’t be saying this now…”

“I’m so sorry, Fox,” Scully replied. She tightened her hold around him.

“I’m not blaming you,” he said. His lips were close to her ear, and his breath felt warm on her neck. “Good bye, Dana,” he said gruffly, not wanting to let her go.

Scully tried to speak, but she felt a tightness in her chest. Mulder started to untangle himself from her. He gave her a small kiss, his lips barely brushing hers. Scullys arms dropped to her side, and she closed her eyes tightly as she tried to force herself to breathe. Mulder gave her shoulder a small squeeze and walked out the door, closing it gently behind. The latched clicked softly. Scully found the sound deafening as she sunk to the ground, leaning against the door and bringing her knees to her chest.

She sat there until, in the background, she heard Harry gave Sally a speech about how when you find the person you want to spend the rest of your life with, you can’t wait for the rest of your life to start. _If only it were that simple_ , Scully thought as she got up and turned off the TV.

 

 


	3. Hallmark Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully and Mulder had not spoken or contacted each other in years prior to something arriving in the mail for Mulder.

Friday October 10, 2013

Mulder sat in his home office and sorted through his stack of mail when a light blue envelope caught his eye. He knew who it was from before opening it. It was just like Scully to ensure that she mailed the card early enough to get to him days before his actual birthday. The card featured a cartoon UFO with it’s neon green alien occupant sticking his hand out the ship’s window, holding a birthday cake. In bright orange bubble letters it read:

_HAVE AN OUT-OF-THIS WORLD BIRTHDAY!_

Mulder chuckled as he opened the card.

 

_Dear Fox,_

_Happy birthday! I saw this card, and couldn’t help but think of you._

_I hope you’re well._

_Always,_

_Dana_

 

It had been over three years since they had last communicated in any way, but she still remembered his upcoming birthday. Mulder fished his phone out of his coat pocket and scrolled through his contacts. She was simply listed as Scully.

He texted: _I’m not sure if this is still your number, but if it is, I just wanted to say thanks for the birthday card._

He received a prompt reply: _Mulder, it’s me._

And another message right after: _You’re welcome._

Mulder considered the card a sweet gesture. Maybe she was indicating that she was ready to try to be friends, or maybe she just passed the greeting card section while she was out picking up other things at a drugstore, and the flashy colours on the card caught her eye. _Of course_ , he thought, _a comical cartoon alien would remind her of_ me. Have I been reduced to that in her mind? He stopped himself, not wanting to read too much into it, especially given the way that they parted.

They had tried to be friends before, but it turned out that for them there was no longer a middle ground between lovers and friends. During that time when they attempted friendship, even though there had been physical distance between them, they were in the habit of talking weekly. That continued for over a year until Mulder decided to drop by with pizza and beer -- a nostalgic gesture of friendship that ended with them deciding that in order to move forward, they couldn’t be in each other’s lives anymore. They both felt that their romantic relationship had been built on such a strong, impermeable foundation of friendship that it would be easy to downshift back to “just friends”, but it hadn’t been easy for either of them, not with constant contact. They needed time to actually apart, away from one another completely, to learn how to be themselves without each other. Mulder had said goodbye and left Scully standing by the door in her apartment looking anguished.

He turned the card over in his hands, reading the neat, black cursive over again. _Don’t read too much into it_ , he told himself. He spun around in his chair, looking for a spot on the wall to pin up the card and his gaze swept over his I WANT TO BELIEVE poster. He chuckled dryly and reached for a thumbtack.

 

 


End file.
